Born with It
by katievendea
Summary: The story of a child conceived and born during the Great Purge and raised up in the small village of Ealdor. The story of a boy trying to figure out what magic is and why he has to live with the burden of being an outsider among normal people. The story of Merlin's childhood.
1. Chapter 1

I always knew he was different.

I remember the first look I took at him. I actually thought that I'd died during the childbirth — that tiny pair of beautiful, deep ocean blue eyes made me believe that I was in heaven. He was small and fragile and very very sober, and the sweetest and most wonderful creature I'd ever seen. I'd been loving him since the moment I'd learnt I was carrying him in my womb, and now that I was holding him in my arms, I couldn't love him less. The midwife wrapped him in a soft and warm blanket and gave him back to me so that I could breastfeed him. It was the most glorious feeling I'd ever experienced, holding him close to me, gently brushing my fingertips across his strong raven black hair and listening to him making those little squelching noises while he was voraciously sucking the milk out of my breasts. I closed my eyes in exhaustion. I already had a name for him in my head, but I didn't even have the strength to say it aloud. I would do it when I woke up...


	2. Chapter 2

_I always knew I was different._

_My very first memory is her lighting a candle in the dark, then leaning over me and trying to soothe me while I was yelling so loud I must have woken up the whole village. I used to be a terrible sleeper, and I'm sure I've given her hard times. She didn't like picking me up for every cry, and usually that was exactly the reason why I cried. I wanted her to stay close to me, to hold me and rock me. I wanted to hear her singing sweet lullabies or just talking to me; her voice was so soft and beautiful, and I felt safer when she was with me. But she couldn't attend to me all day long. She was always there when I was hungry or thirsty, or when my nappy needed changing, and she never forgot to express her deep love towards me, but she also had to clean the house, wash our clothes, work in the garden and cook food for the two of us. Of course I didn't understand it back then. All babies are selfish little rats._

_That was when I started to move things._

_I think the first incident happened a few weeks before my first birthday. I could barely stand and not at all talk, and no matter how loud I was weeping, she didn't listen. I wanted to play, but she was too busy with peeling those silly potatoes. She had good ears to distinguish my cries of hunger from my fake cries for attention._

_The first object I ever moved was the small wooden bowl in which she put the peeled vegetables. It raised into the air slowly, then fell down on the floor, and all the vegetables scattered around in the room. At first I wasn't even sure I had been the one who did it, but she immediately lifted her head, searching for me. I can remember seeing her fingers tightening fitfully around the handle of the knife as her eyes widened. I saw something in those eyes, a feeling that I couldn't understand. I was young, helpless and ignorant, but I definitely knew something was wrong._

_For a while, I didn't really care, though. I realised that me moving things got her to come and play with me even when crying didn't help. Every time I made something flutter in the air, whether it was a dangerous object or only a toy of mine, she appeared in an instant, trying to distract my attention by something like a fairy tale, a song or a game. I enjoyed that I finally found a way to make her spend much more time with me than earlier. Children always love discovering how the world works._

_Only when I grew a little older did I start to care and recognise the feeling I always saw in her look when I moved things. It was a strange mixture of perplexity and pride. And dread._


	3. Chapter 3

When Merlin turned three, I seriously considered getting a nanny for him. It was probably the hardest period of our lives, the time of his negativist crisis, and I couldn't be constantly there to look after him. He was a difficult child, smart for his age but very stubborn in his own way, and I was terribly afraid of not being able to keep him safe. Ever since the day he started to discover his powers and use them more or less consciously, I'd always been worried. When he was still a toddler, I used to try to occupy him with as many different activities as possible, but it didn't stop him from using his magic. I also tried to talk to him when he got a bit older, and he promised me endless times that he wouldn't use magic anymore. The problem was, he still didn't really know what exactly "magic" was, and I was unable to explain it to him. I knew he was trying hard to obey, but he couldn't, and I didn't have the heart to scold him for that. I felt completely lost. I knew that I needed someone to help us, but I just couldn't think of a single person I could trust. Most of the villagers looked askance at me as I wasn't married and Merlin didn't have a father living with us. I had a few friends around, and I thought it was a miracle that nobody in the village had discovered about Merlin's magic yet, but I didn't want to risk anything. So, in the end, Merlin never had a nanny.

Nonetheless, after more than two years spent in fear, I finally decided to write to Gaius. Being the only family I had left, he used to be the first and only person I informed about the birth of my son. Back then, he had encouraged me to contact him whenever I needed something, and now I felt that it was time for me to do so.

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><p>My dear Gaius,<p>

I'm writing to you in the hope that you can help me with an advice. Three years passed since my son was born, and ever since that, I've been praying for all the gods and goddesses to not let this happen to him, yet Merlin seems to be blessed and cursed with his father's talent. He is still too young to fully understand the things happening around him, but smart enough to have noticed that he is different from everyone else. However, I'm worried about him not learning soon enough how dangerous it can be for him if he loses control of himself, and I'm afraid I'm not the right person to teach him. All I wanted for him was a safe and happy life, and now I feel lost and helpless for being unable to give that to him. Please, if you can think of anything that could help us, let me know.

Lots of love,

Hunith


	4. Chapter 4

_William had always been my best friend, or, more precisely, he had been my only friend, even though we were like day and night. He was a real troublemaker, a messy, short, blond lad with puffy face, while I was shy and rangy and skinny, and my hair was as black as coal. We had absolutely nothing in common, except our deep blue eyes. Well, at least I thought my eyes were similar to his. My mother always said they were. Once, when I was about five years old, a pedlar came to the village and showed me a beautiful, shiny steel tray on which I could see the reflection of my face, so I knew she was right._

_But Will didn't seem to believe it. He kept saying that there was something strange in my eyes._

_"Usually, they're fine," he avowed, "but sometimes they turn... odd."_

_"Odd?" I echoed in surprise. "Like what?"_

_"I don't know," he answered uncertainly. He hesitated after that, and I could see it on his face that he was about to say something crazy. "Maybe I'm just imagining it, but sometimes I see them become... golden."_

_I bursted into laughter. Will was really good at making up funny things. Somewhere behind me I heard a net's rope breaking, followed by a series of small thuds._

_"There they are!" Will exclaimed, just when I turned my back on him to check what had made the noise. I stared at him again, confused. I had no idea what he was talking about. "Your eyes," he went on, pointing at my face._

_I lifted an arm and touched my eyelid._

_"Oh, yeah," I nodded, still in confusion, but trying to joke. "People normally have their eyes on their face, you know."_

_"They just went golden!" Will spluttered as if he hadn't heard what I said. He stepped closer, glancing deep into my iris in seek of a ghost of golden light, but seeing nothing but the pure blueness of the sky in them. I gazed back at him for a long moment, then he suddenly turned around and rushed home without a single word, leaving me alone with Old Man Simmons' brand new net, which had been used for holding apples up until a few minutes ago, when, for an unknown reason, the massive rope broke and all the apples scattered over the ground._

_A few hours later, when we were having supper, my mother noticed that I was unnaturally quiet. She asked me what was wrong, but I didn't know how to tell her. Ever since I was younger, she often mentioned something called "magic", but I was never quite sure what that word meant. I knew it was related to the things I did; she usually began to talk about magic being dangerous after I had moved an object. Using magic means moving things, that's what I had thought. But later I noticed it wasn't only about that. For example, there was a day last winter when the cold was almost unbearable and we had too little firewood at home, so my mother had to leave the fireplace empty for the day. I put on all my shirts and trousers, but I was still freezing, so, when she wasn't around, I moved to the fireplace and lit a fire all by myself, just by looking at the trace of ashes. And I wondered why people needed firewood for this when even a child can make a fire without it. When my mother came back and spotted my fire, she immediately put it out. Then she lowered, pulled me close to her and set me on her knee, and I had another lesson about this "magic" thing. She seemed to be so frightened and sad every time she was talking about magic. I never wanted to scare her or hurt her, I never meant to do anything wrong, but I didn't know anymore what was right and what was wrong. Magic was wrong, I understood that. But what was magic, actually?_

_Now, this evening, when I was sitting at the table with her, thinking about what Will had told to me, I suddenly started to realise the answer to that question. Magic must have been the feeling I had when doing certain things. I felt it when I moved objects, or when I had lit that fire. I also felt it when I had broken Old Man Simmons' net. It was a very nice, light feeling, as if I was truly myself._

_And I was sure all this had something to do with my eye colour._

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><p><strong>AN: Wow, I'm glad you like the story so far, and yes, I'm definitely going to write more; I already have some finished chapters, but I didn't feel like uploading all of them together.<strong>

**Also, thank you for the nice reviews! I love getting reviews, they're the best inspiration. If you notice any grammar mistakes, incorrect phrases or collocations, etc. feel free to be a grammar nazi and correct me :D I really want to get better with my English.**


	5. Chapter 5

I'd be lying if I said that our life in Ealdor was easy, but still, Merlin was one of the most wonderful things ever happened to me. He was a miracle, an angel, and his smile was the light in my dark world. I had known from the very beginning that one day I'd need to let him go, but I wished that moment never came. I remember that day when a messenger arrived to the village, bringing Gaius' reply to the letter I'd sent him. I was very grateful for his comforting words, but they frightened me at the same time; he offered me to take Merlin in, look after him and teach him how to control his magic. Reading those lines, I whispered a weak "no". Camelot was far away, and Merlin hadn't even turned four yet, he was too young for such a long journey, not to mention what would be waiting for him there. I trusted Gaius with all my heart and knew that he would never let anything happen to my son, but I just couldn't stand the idea of Merlin being so close to Uther Pendragon. He wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready for this.

Some years later, on a spring morning, I was sitting in the porchway, patching one of Merlin's old shirts, keeping an eye on the two children, who were playing nearby. Merlin was already seven years old, and he had grown a lot during the last few winters. He became stronger and smarter. He helped me more and more with the work around the house; he collected firewood, washed fruits and vegetables, watered the plants and fed the chickens in the garden. Will and he were inseparable, I felt like I was the mother of two boys, because Will almost literally spent more time with my son than with his own family.

Merlin's short but sharp scream disturbed my thoughts. I looked up and saw him lying on his back on the ground, thank god, unharmed. Moving my eyes to William's stretched arms and guilty face, I knew immediately that he had pushed Merlin over, but before I could say or do anything, I suddenly noticed the grass changing: around my son, thousands of small, white wild flowers opened their petals in a flash, before my very eyes. I jumped up, forgetting about the half-patched shirt on my knee.

"Merlin!" I snapped at him without thinking. "Come here right now!"

He didn't hesitate to obey, though I saw the fear and guilt in his blue eyes as he got up and stepped closer. He stopped right in front of me and gazed up to my face, making all my anger fly away immediately. I hated yelling at him, but sometimes I had no choice. He had to learn how important it was to keep his powers secret.

"I've told you many times that you mustn't do this, haven't I?"

"I've never done this before," he protested.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He lowered his head and muttered something that sounded like "magic". Of course he knew, and deep inside I abruptly felt relieved. He finally started to understand what magic was, and I really hoped it would help him to prevent this sort of matters. I gently patted his back, pointing at the front door with my other hand.

"Go inside. I'm coming in a minute, too," I sighed. Then I turned to William, who was still standing by the flowers with a confused expression on his face, which instantly turned into embarrassment when he noticed that I was looking at him.

"I-I'm sorry, it was an accident..." he stuttered in a low voice.

"Will," I interrupted. I lowered so that our eyes were in line, and put a hand on his shoulder. For a moment, I gazed at the tiny white petals, and couldn't help thinking about how sweet and innocent my son was. "Listen to me, please. You must swear that you're not going to talk about these flowers to anyone. Not even to your parents. Can you do this for me?"

"Um... Yeah," he answered hesitantly. It wasn't too convincing.

"This is important, Will," I insised. "You must never tell anyone. You may lose Merlin if you do."

A slight wave of fear ran through his face.

"I swear I won't talk about it," he finally said.

"Thank you," I smiled at him and stood up, letting go of his shoulder. "Now, go home! You can come to play tomorrow."

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><p><strong>AN: I'm terribly sorry about not updating earlier! I was very busy with my thesis, but now it's finally done, so I can continue writing my stories. I hope you'll like this chapter.<strong>


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